Lamborghini Sandwich?
by Ilyusha
Summary: G1. Slash. Red AlertxInferno. Inferno has an interesting encounter. Ties in with the 'Dreams' series of fics previously published here.


Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I've forgotten…  
Authors Notes: The idea began when the A got me Inferno for Christmas and my Red Alerts rejoiced (as evidence on a post in the Livejournal redxinferno community). It was further inspired by the comment _mmouse15_ made (which allowed me to actually write the darn thing) and also has a nod to the wonderful picture _vejiraziel_ drew. Can also be linked to the series of fics I wrote from _sbx_'s Good Dream prompt.

* * *

Excerpt from _Left Out_ to set the scene:

"Red? Whatcha doing? I got a weird message from Prime…" Inferno trailed off at the sight in front of him. Displayed on the screens was the inside of Jazz's quarters, currently occupied by Jazz, Sunstreaker, Prowl and Sideswipe.  
"See see see! They're all at it!" Red Alert uncurled from his chair long enough to jab a finger at the screen.  
"Yeah… I can see that…" Inferno drawled, coming to stand behind Red Alert's chair, leaning in to get a better look. "Yanno, I didn't know Prowl were that flexible…"  
"Don't, no… not looking!" Red Alert offlined optics and curled up further in his chair. Inferno placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.  
"You don't have ta watch them ya know…"  
"I need to know! I can't stand not knowing!"  
"Heh, next thing you'll be askin' ta join them…" That had Red Alert uncurling and twisting in his chair to face Inferno.  
"No." He declared vehemently.  
"Good, I ain't sharing ya with anyone." Red Alert smiled briefly before turning back round to face the monitors, twitching.  
"Switch 'em off Red."  
"I…"  
"Switch 'em off Red an' we'll go see if we can't make you make those sorta noises…"

The Security Room went dark as power to all the monitors was cut off.

* * *

Inferno couldn't help but stare fondly down at Red Alert as the security director lay recharging on the berth next to him. It hadn't taken long to convince Red Alert to leave the security center, not after what he'd been observing on his monitors.

Almost reverently, Inferno traced a line down Red Alert's plating, the touch just light enough to be teasing. Red Alert's optics flickered on and he smiled lazily up at Inferno.

"Don't you ever get enough?"

"Of you Red? Never!"

"You don't have the urge to be a filling in a Lamborghini sandwich then?" He muttered drowsily, snuggling back up against Inferno.

"What?" Inferno barely had time to ask the question before he realised that Red Alert had drifted back into recharge. "Heh, not unless both Lamborghinis were you Red…" Stretching, he made himself comfortable on the berth, pulling Red Alert close and settling down to recharge.

"Lamborghini sandwich…" He muttered as he cycled down into recharge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Black hands wandered over his chassis and he was powerless to stop them, hands cuffed to a bar above his head. Not that he particularly wanted the hands to stop moving and dipping into armor seams and gaps between his plating and twisting the wires beneath just so.

He arched, trying to get closer to the roaming hands, needing more than just the tantalisingly light touch brushing across his plating. He could hear his cooling systems straining, ventilation systems rattling as they struggled to cool his over-heated systems.

"Please…" He heard himself plead, anything more he was going to say lost in a moan as those talented fingers traced the edge of his grill. One hand dragged its way down across his bumper, down to the transformation seams at his waist, fingers playing along the edge, teasing him further.

"Red…" He all but whined, twisting in his near desperation. He could hear the other's systems, the revving of the high performance engine. He could feel Red Alert in front of him, the heat emanating from his chassis bouncing against his own.

And _then_ he could feel another set of hands against his ladder, fingers smoothing along each rung, wringing another moan from him. Caught between both sets of hands, he was helpless as they moved across his frame, simultaneously twisting and arching away from one, only to end up forcing himself against the other set.

They pressed against him; one against his windshield, the other against his back, plating pressed up against his ladder mount. Another moan, more touches and he was panting with them, pleading for release.

"Red, Red…" Over and over he begged as they brought him closer and closer to overload between them. Two sets of black hands drifted across his frame, teasing and tugging wires beneath his plating. High performance engines revved in counterpoint to his own rumbling engine. He could hear the harsh sounds of over-worked ventilation systems above the sound of his own, telling him that they were getting as much pleasure as he was.

Lips on his and hands clenching on a rung and twisting in his grill were his undoing, launching him headlong into his overload, crying out into the kiss. Energy fields flared and crackled and his processor dimly registered his name being called out in stereo before he offlined, a serene smile on his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He onlined his optics as lips lightly brushed against his helmet, looking up to see Red Alert leaning down over him.

"Mmmmm…" He stretched slightly. "That was wonderful thank you…"

"What?" Red Alert sat back, confusion written on his faceplates, the tender moment broken.

"I…" Inferno sat up, processor coming fully online and gazed around the room. "But there were two of you."

"Are you sure I don't need to call Ratchet?"

"Yes! At least… I don't think so. Must just have been a dream…" He realised, a slightly wistful tone in his vocaliser.

"Two of me? Sounds like a nightmare." Despite the teasing tone, Inferno could still detect the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty.

"Not a nightmare, just a very very good dream." Inferno smiled, pulling Red Alert close for a kiss.


End file.
